Page 8 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

I laugh. “Can we end the serial killer thing? Doespassingtime work better for you?”

“Much better.”

He’s easy to talk to, and I like that. “I kind of embarrassed myself earlier.”

Shifting beside me, he keeps his eyes on our surroundings. “We all fall on our asses every once in a while.” He angles his chin my way. “But you got up and dusted yourself off like a champ.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence and motivational speech.”

The sweetest lopsided grin slides into place, the right side of his mouth kissing a cute dimple above it. “It was all you.”

“A man who can give me credit,” I reply sarcastically. “That’s a first.” My gut twists and not from the alcohol in my system. I’ve gone too far. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You wouldn’t have said it if you hadn’t experienced it. Sucks you had to deal with that behavior.”

Rubbing my temple, I sigh. “I hate when I get emotional.”

“Let’s blame the alcohol and not worry about it.”

I may have fixated on his looks so much that I overlooked his kindness. Inside the bar and out here, he’s been nothing but a gentleman. When he grasps my hand and pulls me against him, a few heartbeats are lost in the heat of the connection. My shoulders fall, and I look up at him, sucking in a staggered breath. “I?—”

“Almost got run over.”

“What?”

His gaze pivots to my right, and I turn in his arms to see a golf cart skidding to a stop, not even a foot from where I was standing thirty seconds prior. Whipping my attention back to Nick, I say, “You’re a regular hero, saving the day and me again.”

“I wouldn’t say regular. Let’s try on super for size.”

“Superhero?”

“You’re right. That might be giving me too much credit. The guy was driving like a maniac.”

I’m not sure what the difference is between an everyday hero and a superhero or how we even got tangled in this conversation in the first place.Oh, yeah . . .The guy bent over the flat tire says, “Busy night. I’ve had three flats, and one of our best Vespas ended up in Catalina Harbor. Not good.” He looks at us. “I’ll take a look, but I don’t have any spare tires, so I might not be able to fix it on the fly.”Great. Just what I need.

Big hands still protectively cover my forearms, which shifts my focus back to Nick again. “Can I blame the rum?” I ask, laughing lightly.

“For?” His answer is for only my ears, an alluring tone that has me lowering my guard.

“I thought you were going to kiss me.Again.” I slip out of his hold and roll my hand. “Like inside, which might have been more wishful thinking on my part, but out here, it seemed like the perfect setup for a kiss under the stars of Catalina to set a mood.”

“Which mood are we trying to set? I’ll see if I can arrange for your fantasy to come true.”

“Fantasy?” My voice pitches. I realize I’m doing exactly what I’m not supposed to be doing. Falling prey to a great face and hot body has gotten me in trouble more times than I care to admit. So I won’t admit anything to anyone, other than Tatum, of course, since she’s usually with me. This trip was about having fun, but notthatkind of fun. Throwing my arms up as a self-built barrier, I continue, “No fantasy over here. Nope. No mood. No setting. Nothing needs to be arranged. I’m good.” I shove my hands out farther. “Sogood. You don’t even know how good I am.”

Narrowed eyes are trained on me as if I’m about to make a fast getaway. I just might, actually. It might be the only thing that saves me. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Not really, but don’t worry. It’s me, not you.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that from someone I’m not even dating.”

Raising an eyebrow, I smile because it’s insane to think someone like him has experienced the same thing as me before. I mean, look at him. “You’ve been dumped with that line, too?”

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, still staring unabashedly at me, but his chuckling is confusing. “No,” he replies. “But?—”

“It’s busted. Can’t fix this one, miss.” The Vespa guy eyes me, and I think he waggles his eyebrows, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt that he didn’t. “Want a ride?” he asks.

His eagerness has me questioning if I want to get tangled up in that. Short answer:I don’t.“I’m good. Thanks.”

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